


checkmate

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Series: The X-Men AU No One Asked For [8]
Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Asphyxiation, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Blood, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture, Telepathy, Unrequited Love, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> [original post here](http://bukkun-moonsin.tumblr.com/post/132212095728/checkmate). also a personal favourite from the mapalad au.

It had been in the middle of a cabinet meeting when it happened. Anti _-Mapalad_ units from the American Army stormed the hall, and it caused a terrible uproar in the room. The door slammed open at the sound of a general’s voice, and there was that long, terrible moment when the hall fell silent, only to have American soldiers bursting in.

Almost immediately Mabini was pulled away by his seat, and he only had enough time to see Aguinaldo rise from his seat, all the metal in the room thrumming threateningly before he was pulled into a saferoom. Luna was already barking orders, and Capt. Rusca quickly sped off to do his bidding. Col. Paco dove for his gun, and returned fire, and the sun suddenly turned dark for all inside, thanks to the older Bernal blocking out the room with tree logs.

“How dare you all?” Aguinaldo bellowed, and all the guns the Americans held bent to face their owners.

“Fall back! We got what we need, boys!”

“No, you are not running away!” Luna hollered. “Manuel!”

The phyllokinetic nodded silently, and closed his eyes to concentrate. The earth rumbled, and outside they could hear the screams of impaled American soldiers.

“General.” He curtly stated, before stumbling back into his worried brother’s side.

Luna stared down the American general across him, who looked smug instead of worried.

“What do you want?” Aguinaldo demanded.

“Well, that’d defeat the idea of us coming here, don’t you think?”

That made them stop, and suddenly all of them were shaken by a splitting headache. Realization dawned on Aguinaldo’s face, and he turned to face the saferoom, having his powers throw the door open to see Mabini had gone missing.

“What—”

“All of you, hold your fire, and put your hands up! We’ve got this place surrounded!”

Luna glared at Aguinaldo, who looked right back at him, eyes dark.

“ _Senyor Presidente, perhaps it is time you show us why you were a general during the Revolution_?” Luna’s voice was somehow less sharp in Spanish, but it still got the American soldiers to look at each other worriedly. He smirked, and the man grimly nodded.

“ _Indeed. Have Capt. Rusca send General Del Pilar a message_.”

“I said, hands up! Quit talking!”

“Sir.” Rusca nodded.

“ _The eagle has taken the crow. He will know what to do_.”

He and Luna shared a  _look,_  and with a deep breath, Rusca got ready—

The moment he disappeared, all the bullets in the room pierced American heads, all except their General’s.

There was a mild commotion, mostly coming from outside, and Manuel let out a hiss of pain.

“General… they’re burning the wood down.”

“ _Kuya_ ,” José breathed, and his brother looked at him.

“José.” The older man breathed heavily, “Burn them down. I can’t keep growing them back like this.”

The younger Bernal looked at his President and General, and the both of them nodded at him. He rushed outside, looking nervous, and the American general pointed his gun at him.

“Hey, you—”

“You are in no place to be pointing any weapon of any sort at  _any_   _Mapalad_ , General.” Aguinaldo snarled, and the barrel of the gun turned slowly to face the man. “ _Especially_  in  _my_  presence.”

“Senyor Presidente.” Paco suddenly sternly said, “Control yourself. We need him alive if we want to find out where Senyor Mabini was taken.”

Aguinaldo lingered, for just a single moment, before he relented, and instead curled the gun’s iron around the man’s wrists, and melded them to the wall. “Have at him,” he replied dismissively, and turned to leave.

Luna and Paco looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

“General, he’s all yours.” Paco coolly said, “I’ve to tend to Manuel—and the rest of the cabinet General Alejandrino shoved into the next room.”

Luna smirked, and the American general suddenly felt very worried.

* * *

There were very few instances when you could catch a telepath off guard. They always had such a good hold on their surroundings, and Mabini, after all, was the best telepath  _Mapalad_  alive.

(The other one was young Jacinto, barely a man at 19, in such good control of his powers it made Mabini disappointed at the fact his life never lasted longer. He was also one of the strongest telepaths he ever had the pleasure to meet, defending Bonifacio’s mind with barriers like diamonds and ice, and while he’d never seen it before, he liked to imagine Jacinto was like Western winter snow, pure, and white—and  _biting_ and  _freezing_  and  _solid_.

He was such an inspiring young man. Shame, a shame that he died.)

It took him by surprise that someone could have snuck up on him. Then again, the commotion in the meeting hall would have been enough to keep his attention for a while.

When the door slammed shut in front of him, there was only a moment that passed when suddenly there was a hand over his nose and mouth, and he struggled, futilely, as something was forced onto his head.

Suddenly, his world grew so much smaller. The mental field he had cast around himself—like a mental barrier keeping stray thoughts out, the barrier he spent many a good year perfecting to control—suddenly shrunk  _tight_ , trapping his thoughts inside him in a grip that felt like iron-cast vices.

It felt like he was forced back into his childhood, when the thoughts of other people permeated into his head like knives through fruit, and having so used to the largeness and comfort of his mental space, Mabini couldn’t help the shout that tore from his throat. His hands shot up to grasp his head, scrambling to get whatever it was  _off_  but someone—oh, God, he couldn’t  _read who_ —grabbed his wrists and tied them together.

The pain was unbearable. It came to the point he couldn’t even scream at the pain.

Something warm trickled down from his nose, and he knew it was blood.

In the cacophony of his thoughts suddenly shoved back into his mind, one stood out:

_Miong would be so worried._

There was brief moment of clarity, where he wondered  _why_  he thought that—and the pain made itself known again.

He could barely see past the tears that blocked his vision, but he could feel the warmth of his blood trickling down his lips, some getting into his mouth, the rest dribbling off his chin, and he wondered vaguely if he was going to die like this.

(Jacinto’s death sounded a much better one than this.)

Suddenly his chair jolted, and someone lifted the helmet from his head. Mabini panted, his chest heaving, and he felt nimble hands undo the bonds on his wrists. He threw his thoughts back out into the space around him, doing his best to avoid the blocking thoughts of what he could estimate to be around five Americans, and he froze, when he realised he recognised the mind next to him.

Blue eyes, pale skin and blond hair. The man looked every inch a Joe, as he looked Mabini over, and handed him a handkerchief, but Mabini knew who this was.

General Gregorio Del Pilar. No doubt Aguinaldo had him called over.

“You all nearly killed him,” Gregorio stood up, scowling at the men, as he tossed a white helmet—the one previously on Mabini’s head—to one of the men. “Jesus. If you fry this guy, the bosses are gonna kill us.”

“Sorry, sir,” the one who caught the helmet apologised.

“I’ll take care of him.” Gregorio declared, and picked Mabini up.

“Wait, sir, what if he does funky stuff with your head?”

“He’s practically dying, Corporal, I’m going to be fine.” Gregorio deadpanned, and adjusted his hold on Mabini. “At ease, men. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Gregorio waited for the men to leave, before turning to head back to the Presidential Palace. Mabini blearily realised they had barely gotten far, but to him the journey felt like forever with the amount of pain he felt. Gingerly he wiped the blood off his face, and made no move to offer Gregorio the handkerchief. They headed back inside through a back door, away from prying eyes, and eventually Gregorio brought Mabini to Aguinaldo’s room. He shifted back into his normal face, and sighed deeply as he lowered the paralytic to sit on the edge of Aguinaldo’s bed.

“English is hard.” he complained.

Mabini simply nodded.

“Are you alright, Senyor Mabini?” he asked, “The President had me find you immediately.”

“Your faux concern is amusing, General, but do drop the act. I know you’re suspicious of me.” Mabini snapped back, and Gregorio’s expression dropped to a scowl.

“Get out of my head.” He snarled.

“I haven’t even touched it. I can  _feel_  your emotions radiating all the way here. Control yourself, General, you’re acting like a  _child_.”

The younger man glared at him. “And you’re becoming ever unfaithful to the President, Senyor Mabini.”

“Unfaithful? The President?” the paralytic smirked, condescending. “There is no loyalty to people when it comes to the law.”

“The  _Mapalad_  are supposed to  _run_  this country, Senyor,” Gregorio snapped, “Humans have  _no place_  in this government! Stop believing Luna and listening to his crazy ideals—you know what he’s like, he’s a raving lunatic!”

“General Luna is a genius, General Del Pilar. I was wrong about him; to say he knows nothing about politics? He knows the people better than you all do.” Mabini’s smirk grew sharp. “And, he’s not likely to be anyone’s puppet, or blind little puppy.”

“You—!” Gregorio balled his hands into fists, and shook in anger. “Do you even _realise_  what President Aguinaldo has done for us  _Mapalad_ —for  _you_ —”

“For  _me_?” Mabini rarely laughed, and his laugh now was anything but warm. “The man is a fool and a slave to his feelings. He loves me; I know it. He doesn’t do a thing to hide it, no matter how much he thinks he does.”

Gregorio’s eyes widened, and his fists curled tighter.

“It’s sad, really.” Mabini peered at him, “… And ironic, considering you are in the same boat as he is.”

At that Gregorio’s eyes widened, and his heart nearly stopped when he felt the brush of Mabini’s mind in his.

“Get out of my head.” He said again, but it was with less power, and crackled at the edges.

“… You’re in love, General.” The paralytic continued, “… Oh. It  _isn’t_  a woman.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

“Captain Eduardo Rusca? How I wonder. Does he love  _you_  back?”

There had been very few circumstances where there was a knife pointed at Mabini’s throat, and this was one of them.

He stared down the boy General with cold, impassive disinterest, and he knew how much Gregorio hated it when he did that. He could see  _everything_ in the young man’s head—his anger, his annoyance, the sheer amount of determination and concentration he put into maintaining his appearance.

“Have I struck a chord, General Del Pilar?” he asked coolly, and Gregorio’s eyes, wild and yellow, glared back at him. “Or should I unravel you further?”

“I am going to plunge this right into your neck, even if it damns me to hell in the President’s eyes.”

Mabini regarded him for a long moment, before blinking slowly.

“Calm yourself, General. You’re quite losing it.”

Gregorio blinked, confused, but then Mabini’s gaze sharpened, and his concentration failed. Suddenly his head went blank, and he could feel his clothes—his hair, his eyes—his  _body_ , shifting, and there was a heart-stopping moment of silence, before he realised—

“ _Putangina_.”

Gone was his handsome face, his smooth skin, his  _normal_  looking self.

His concentration had lapsed enough for him to lose his grip on keeping himself look normal. He could see his scales, his blue skin—he could see his wild, yellow eyes reflected in the glass of the window.

He had become the monster he tried so hard to suppress, again.

“You— _you_ —!”

He dove forward to pin the paralytic to the President’s bed, dropping his knife completely to wrap his hands around Mabini’s thin neck, and  _squeezed_. “You made me—”

A  _monster_.

Mabini couldn’t breathe, but he was laughing. Smirking, at Gregorio’s panic, at his fright. His hands contorted oddly, his body instinctively trying to fight the blockage to his throat, but he did little else, just let Gregorio squeeze his throat harder, and harder, and—

“General Del Pilar!” Aguinaldo’s voice cut through the air like hot metal, and Gregorio froze, letting go of Mabini completely. “What are you  _doing_?”

Dazed, Gregorio let Aguinaldo push him aside completely to pull Mabini into his arms, panicked, as he searched his face, cupping it in his shaking hands, smoothing back mussed hair as Mabini fought to get his breath back, coughing, pained, the smile gone from his face.

“What have you  _done_?” Aguinaldo hissed at him, and Gregorio dumbly shook his head, still shocked. “ _Gregorio_.” He growled, and that snapped him back to reality.

“… Senyor Presidente.”

“ _Leave_.” He snarled, “We will talk about this  _later_.”

It was like his blood froze in his veins. “I…”

“ _Now_ , General.”

Gregorio took a moment to gather himself together, hastily morphing into a generic servant before rushing out. Before he shut the door behind him, he saw Mabini’s head resting on Aguinaldo’s shoulder. The President had his back to him but he could see the paralytic looking back at him on his way out.

Their eyes met, and despite still coughing, Mabini smirked at him.

_I’ve won, General Del Pilar._

Defeat turned his stomach achingly similar to disgust.

_I concede, Senyor Mabini._

He shut the door behind him, and left.


End file.
